


Thorin's Fall | Return to the Erebor

by BlackBirdAolen



Series: Thorin's Fall | A The Hobbit Series [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Erebor, Loneliness, Lost friends, M/M, The Lonely Mountain, Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1716080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBirdAolen/pseuds/BlackBirdAolen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally, the Erebor may be reclaimed. Thorin has recovered from the wounds Smaug dealt to him... but there is something even worse awaiting him. Where have his friends gone?</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://ask.fm/BlackBirdAolen">Got a fanfic idea for me?</a><br/><a href="http://cheroshseiphar.deviantart.com/">My deviantART - full of original fiction.</a><br/><a href="http://blackbirdaolen.tumblr.com/">Snippets and ramblings on my tumblr.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Thorin's Fall | Return to the Erebor

The sight of the Lonely Mountain after such a long time made Thorin's heart skip a beat. It had taken months for him to recover, but he finally was walking upright again. The wounds Smaug had inflicted upon him still were visible as horrible scars, marring him and branding him as one of the few to ever encounter a dragon so closely. Thranduil's way of covering his own marks with an illusion of unharmed skin suddenly seemed much less pathetic, and rather understandable instead.

The dwarf pulled his clothes more tightly around himself, unsure as to how to show his joy and fear of returning to the Lonely Mountain. He had gone through so much trouble to come to this point, but he felt that it had come at a too high price. His companions still hadn't returned. They were deemed lost, even dead by the elves having searched the Erebor for them.

"I fear that the latest search party has returned empty-handed as well." Thorin turned to look at Thranduil. The elf's expression showed nothing but remorse and sympathy. "They found neither dwarves nor a hobbit. It is as though they vanished in thin air. There are signs they have wandered these halls, but none of where they have gone to. Smaug's claw marks were close to the spots their footprints ended." Thranduil paused, looking as though he was in pain. "My fear is that the dragon consumed them."

Thorin thought that right at that moment, Smaug's spirit had returned to lash out against him once more in a much more horrible fashion than physically possible. Time seemed to suddenly stand still around him, and he could do nothing but stare into the distance. That couldn't be. It couldn't be that his companions were gone forever. It couldn't have happened that this abomination, this horrible dragon had consumed them, had taken their lives. He refused to believe it.

The slender arms of Thranduil wrapped around his shoulders, and the elf hesitantly pressed him closer to the lean body. Thorin quivered, unable to fully comprehend what was going on around him. Elves were carefully treading around, retracing their steps for what seemed to be the uncounted time. The search parties, by now, had to know the insides of the Erebor by heart, and still, there was no sign of his comrades? This was the worst nightmare he could have woken up to, and he wished and prayed that it was just that. A nightmare.

"I'm sorry, Thorin..." Thranduil sounded unusually sad, which sent a jolt of pure fear and pain through Thorin's body. This was unlike the ruler of the wood elves. "I'm so sorry, but none of the search parties could find even a trace. There is no indication as to where they have gone. We have no idea where your companions could have ended up at, and we are still pondering all sorts of possibilities. There wasn't one hour when not one of my people has been here, searching for even the slightest trace. We have turned everything upside down, and still..."

Thorin felt how the heat began pooling in his eyes, and he quickly bent his head. He didn't want the elves to see how much misery he was in right now. The faces of his trusted companions flashed before his eyes, Bilbo's face being the clearest. Why had he allowed them all to come with him? Why didn't they return from the bowels of the Erebor now? Why were they still lost? So many questions ghosted through his mind, and there was no answer in sight. Either way, he couldn't believe that there as nothing, absolutely nothing he seemed to be able to do about this. It drove him crazy.

"Why...?" he rasped out, talking to no one and about nothing in particular. "Why did it have to come to this? Where are you all...?" His voice had been quiet to his ears, but when he noticed the elves all gazing his way, Thorin remembered that their hearing would always pick up even the quietest of his whispers. "Why...!?"

Thranduil squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. "That, sadly, is the price of a war against such a beast as Smaug. I lost many of my kin in the same fashion. I don't blame you for the rage boiling in you, or for the fear you feel towards the memory engrave into your mind and body. Smaug has robbed us all of a great deal of our possessions and friends, and that is..."

The elf's voice faded, and they remained quiet for quite some time. Thorin didn't move, didn't even twitch a muscle as he stood there, still trying to fully comprehend the implications of the loss of his comrades. He would have to explain to his people that, because of a selfish, risky act from his side, they would never see their loved ones again. How was he supposed to look into the eyes of the relatives and break the news to them?

"Thorin." Thranduil gently stirred him towards the throne room of the Erebor. "I think it is time that you reclaim your throne, no? It might sound harsh and cold coming from me, but it was the point of your journey, after all. You at least should be able to say that you achieved what you were looking for."

Thorin shuddered, hesitating to even speak up. He should sit on the throne? Reclaim what was rightfully his? How could he, if he hadn't been able to protect his companions on this journey? He shook his head slowly, moving sluggishly as Thranduil gently guided him towards the throne room. It was hard for him to wrap his mind around that concept any longer. He had sought to reclaim the Lonely Mountain, but now, the namesake seemed to have taken on a different, terrifying dimension. He seemed to be the sole survivor of the group that had set out to come to the Erebor. The thought made him shudder, and he even pulled his cloak tighter around himself.

The air seemed cold and devoid of any life when he came into the throne room. Thorin lifted his head, looking around as though he never had seen this room before. The years had made the room's high walls grow dull and had it covered in cracks, but it still had something of the majesty of the past days. It still didn't comfort him, though. He had indulged in the madness of absolutely needing to come here, and had paid a price he never would have been suspecting to pay.

"Go on, Thorin. Claim the throne back, and the Lonely Mountain with it." Thranduil tried to sound encouraging, but it was plain obvious that he, too, was mourning for the lost souls. Thorin nodded, still feeling numbed and strangely misplaced. This just couldn't be real. Why had none of his companions returned yet? Why did he have to do this all alone?

The stone of the throne felt colder than ice beneath his skin as Thorin slowly, sluggishly let himself sink into it. He had imagined this moment, had pictured it as something very triumphant, but now, he just felt out of his body, out of his mind and unable to fully comprehend what was going on. Thranduil approached his throne, wearing a forced smile and trying to cheer him up in some fashion. But it was useless.

"If you wish ... you can return to my realm with us." Thranduil reached out for his hand, and Thorin took it with faint relief flooding through him. "You don't need to be the lonely ruler of the Erebor."

"Yes..." Thorin lowered his gaze, his eyes sliding closed as he felt an incredible tiredness rising inside of him. "I just wished … that the others could have seen this..."

That night, Thorin sobbed into the sheets of his bed, feeling more broken than after the assault of Smaug on him. Nothing could have prepared him for this point of the journey, not even all the warnings he had received. He had hoped to celebrate this moment with his fellow dwarves, but now, he would have to live alone amongst elves. He was too ashamed to return home, and too upset to claim the Erebor as his new old home. Maybe, not even time could heal the wounds that had been ripped into his soul...

 


End file.
